Read Serendipity and Me (9781101602805) for Free Online

away.
    Â 
    A heartbeat later it occurs to me—
    Mrs. Whittier has lived next door
    all my life,
    has been a big part of our lives
    in the past.
    She might know a lot
    she could tell me
    Â 
    about family pictures
    and why our family
    doesn’t look like a family
    Â 
    at all.
    Â 
    Â 

 
    Mrs. Whittier takes the soup pot
    and croons at Serendipity.
    Then she brushes aside my thanks.
    Of course, Sara.
    I just wish I could do more for you.
    Â 
    And so here is my chance.
    Do you think I could
    come in and talk?
    Â 
    Mrs. Whittier looks
    like I’ve handed her a gift.
    Yes, of course , come in.
    Tell me all about this little kitty.
    Â 
    I follow her and kitty-in-a-pot
    into the kitchen,
    explain how Serendipity
    was dropped off.
    Â 
    It’s been a while since I’ve been in here
    long enough that I don’t recognize
    her ceramic pieces displayed on the open shelf
    or the bright woven tablecloth
    that brushes my knees when I sit.
    Â 
    The usual smell of bread baking
    has been replaced by something spicy.
    Â 
    I finish explaining and start to ask
    Â 
    but the question about family pictures
    seems too heavy to lift.
    Â 
    Â 

 
    I say instead, Where are your kitties?
    Â 
    Mrs. Whittier says, Oh, you want to see them?
    She snaps her fingers in a repeating rhythm
    and Shoji and Kajiro come running
    the tabby a shadow
    to the orange and white Kajiro.
    Â 
    From under the tablecloth on my lap
    I hear hissing.
    Serendipity has become an air hose
    of noisy spitting.
    Shoji and Kajiro look up curiously.
    Â 
    Shouldn’t they be the ones hissing? I ask.
    Â 
    Mrs. Whittier shakes her head.
    They’re secure at home.
    She’s the one who feels threatened.
    She gives her cats a splash of milk in their bowls
    as a reward for coming when called.
    Â 
    I lift the tablecloth to pet Serendipity
    and calm her down.
    She keeps spitting even though
    the cats have gone to their bowls.
    Why are you being so silly?
    Â 
    She’ll be fine once you get her back home.
    Â 
    I put the tablecloth
    back over Serendipity’s head.
    Only if I can keep her.
    Â 
    Mrs. Whittier smiles sadly.
    She looks down at her kitties
    and I notice they have
    new handmade bowls.
    How long has it been
    since I came to see her?
    Â 
    I’m suddenly ashamed.
    Has Mrs. Whittier been as lonely as I have?
    Â 
    I try to remember who she has
    to keep her company at home
    besides her cats.
    Â 
    I know gentle Mr. Whittier died
    sometime after my mom.
    Mrs. Whittier has a grown stepdaughter
    who was never very friendly
    Â 
    but I don’t think I’ve seen her
    since Mr. Whittier died.
    Â 
    I try to think of something to say
    to make up for not visiting all this time
    but no words come to me.
    Â 
    I thank her for the soup
    Â 
    and make a run for it.
    Â 
    Â 

 
    After dinner
    Dad asks if I want
    to look at The Book.
    He seems resigned
    to mentioning things
    he’d rather not.
    Â 
    I think I’ve changed my mind.
    I’m not sure I want to deal
    with difficult things, either
    Â 
    not right now
    when my visit with Mrs. Whittier
    has made me realize
    there are more empty spaces
    in our lives now
    than the space Mom left.
    Â 
    My excuses are pitiful.
    I just want a bath
    and to go to bed,
    I say.
    I’m so tired.
    Â 
    Dad looks surprised
    but he nods.
    Â 
    I can feel him watching me
    from the corners
    of his eyes.
    Â 
    Â 

 
    Tonight I discover
    a new form of marine life.
    Â 
    It is white and fluffy
    and crouches on the edge of the tub.
    A sea marshmallow.
    Â 
    She wants to understand water.
    She sticks her tongue under the faucet.
    She watches the waves slosh
    when I scooch around.
    She waits for me to fill her up a cup.
    She likes to drink it warm.
    Â 
    She pats the bubbles.
    She leans too far and falls in.
    Â 
    This is more about water
    than she wants to know.
    Â 
    Â 

 
    I’m shocked enough
    by the sight of her
    struggling in the deep